A New Thought

A thought is a tree

A mind, a forest

Forever growing

Reaching new heights

Branches extending branches

Until the dried-up tips disappear

I've lost sight of them

They've extended too far

They've entered a fog I cannot see through

I'm making new branches, growing new trees

But the tips just keep vanishing

Making room for what's left before

The pace is too passive

Not fading with time to let newer branches expand

The forest has only so much room to grow

A thicket requires a controlled burn

A prescription for hazard reduction

Leaving nothing but ash and smoke

But conditions are ripe for a loss of control

The wood needs not but a spark to cause a spread

Burning down the forest

Killing every tree in sight

The ashes are carried away as the smoke rises

Creating a thick layer of fog as a new thought is born